


Nu

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adult Content, Episode Related, F/M, Missing Scene, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-25
Updated: 2007-02-25
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12713883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Powerful forces unite to save O'Neill ... or is it to sacrifice him?Note - Read The Muse first





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
As Hammond turned the last corner toward O’Neill’s quarters, he froze. The General’s heart pounded and the pit of his stomach clenched. The gentle sound of a guitar, expertly played, floated softly from under O’Neill’s door. Hammond forced himself to knock. The music stopped. “C’mon in,” O’Neill called. Hammond swung the door open. There sat Jack O’Neill with a guitar across his knees and a grin on his face.  
  
“Care to hear my latest variations on Leo Kottke, George?”  
  
“What is this Colonel?” Hammond asked. “I thought you were cured of all this… creative energy!”  
  
“Sit down, Sir. You look a little shaky.”  
  
Hammond slumped into a chair, staring at O’Neill as if he had two heads. Jack looked back, trying to appear normal and pleasant, but inside damned worried that his CO had caught him playing the guitar. Last time it had nearly cost Jack his military career and then nearly cost his life.  
  
Hammond said quietly, “I just stopped by for a chat, Jack.”  
  
Jack set the guitar aside and fetched his bottle of Kentucky bourbon, poured and handed George a glass. This was going to be a long ‘chat’, so O’Neill set the bottle within easy reach.  
  
“I’m fine George. I always played guitar,” Jack began.  
  
“You did? No, Colonel you didn’t. There is no mention of it in your military file. I’ve been through it, believe me I’ve been all through it and there is not a mention of guitar playing.” Hammond hung tough.  
  
Jack shrugged, smiled and straddled a chair, leaning his chin on the chair back, giving Hammond what he hoped was an innocent, friendly appearance. “Well, I wasn’t any good. So I didn’t tell anyone. But, yeah, I played guitar most of my life. George, think about it. Where do you think I found a twelve-string guitar in the SGC? You know I never left the base after visiting … Celeste’s planet.”  
  
Hammond filled in, “P3X531.”  
  
“Yeah, P3X531.” O’Neill finished and gave his Commanding Officer a ‘ya see’ sort of look. “I found it here. I played before. The guitar was here in my quarters, always has been.”  
  
Hammond took a sip of the whiskey. O’Neill could see he was contemplating what his 2IC had just revealed. “But you didn’t play like this, Jack.”  
  
O’Neill looked at Hammond and tried to think of another way to account for his astounding new ability, couldn’t, gave up and grinned. “No. No, I didn’t.”  
  
Then he picked up the instrument, turned the chair around and sat fiddling with the strings and touching the frets. Hammond watched and sipped, waiting for the concert that was clearly about to begin. His patience was rewarded by two hours of the most astonishing music the old man had ever heard. Being a Texan who’d lived from Austin to Zurich, Hammond had heard a world of guitarists. O’Neill was simply out of this world.  
  
As O’Neill concluded his serenade, Hammond emptied his glass and plunged ahead.  
  
“Jack, I dropped by this evening to apologize to you. I hope you know that I didn’t want to relieve you of command, Colonel. I know it hurts like hell, believe me. I’ve been there myself. A military man doesn’t ever forget or easily forgive a thing like that Jack, but I hope you’ll forgive me.”  
  
O’Neill’s sudden onset of artistic genius, a ‘gift’ visited upon him at P3X531 from a force called ‘The Muse,’ had been leaked to military intelligence. Almost immediately, NID took control of O’Neill and put him through a battery of tests, bizarre tests that amounted to nothing less than torture, trying to discover the source of his ‘gift.’  
  
Through it all Hammond fought to protect O’Neill, first to prevent it his transfer, then to rescue him. It was Doctor Janet Frazier who’d actually found a way, not Hammond. In the end, O’Neill came through with no permanent damage and, through sheer luck, found himself relieved of the sudden creative genius, at least it had seemed that way to Hammond.  
  
Hammond had no choice really about relieving O’Neill. He’d clearly been altered by alien contact. He was not in control of his actions. Although it was only for a short while, although he was required to act, Hammond had been deeply ashamed. The shame hadn’t lessened in the weeks that followed. The General felt that O’Neill had every right to hold a grudge.  
  
O’Neill squinted at Hammond in a funny sort of way, like he was searching for words but couldn’t quite find them. Hammond knew immediately that O’Neill had forgiven him. The Colonel was never at a loss for words if his Irish was up.  
  
The General waited another moment for him to find the words, and then threw O’Neill a rope, “ Jack, we’re okay, right?”  
  
O’Neill grinned and replied simply, “Yes Sir, we are. Thanks for watching my back George. More?” he asked holding up the bottle. Hammond nodded and settled back for a chat about all the mundane details of managing the SCG: off-world missions, alien cultures, possibilities of new technology and the ever-present threat of Goa’uld invasion.  
  
Hammond left the Colonel’s quarters mildly tipsy and relieved of guilt, but far from content. Earlier that evening as he’d walked down the hall toward Jack’s quarters, Hammond had thought everything was about to be sorted out. Now, as he walked away, he knew there were still serious questions about what had happened to O’Neill on P3X531.  
  
A small voice in Hammond’s head whispered, “He has to go back.” Hammond tried to ignore it, unwilling to send O’Neill to P3X531, fearful of what might happen there. He could lose his 2IC forever to this … force. The voice persisted through the General’s fitful sleep. “He has to go back.” Hammond pretended not to hear.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  
This time there was no belching Gate. Celeste stood in her quarters and knew visitors would arrive and they did. Small, child-like creatures with hair like multihued clumps of lichen simply appeared.  
  
Celeste smiled, bowed low from the waist and greeted the Nox delegation. “Kalim Era,” she said as she straightened to her full six-foot-six stature, “Ime o Celeste.”  
  
“Greeting Celeste, we are the Nox,” replied a diminutive female. I am Ohper. We have come to ask your assistance. You know the one called O’Neill?”  
  
Celeste inclined her elegant head in acknowledgement, “We know of him. He is one of The Gifted.”  
  
Ohper’s gentle eyes rested on Celeste for a moment. Then she smiled in a bemused smile and continued, “Yes, O’Neill is gifted and he is more, perhaps much more.”  
  
Celeste motioned to a collection of bright cushions arranged in the otherwise monochromatic room, “Please be seated and tell me.”  
  
“O’Neill,” Ohper continued as she sat, “is a human we encountered on several occasions. At first we viewed the encounters as mere happenstance. But, there have been repeated occurrences, too many to account for by chance. A pattern emerges.”  
  
Celeste tilted her head to one side. “A pattern?” She murmured.  
  
“Yes,” Ohper replied nodding her head as she held the last syllable in her slightly sibilant accent. “Yessssss, a pattern.”  
  
Celeste leaned toward her small visitor, “Tell me,” she urged. “Are there signs, portents?”  
  
“Perhaps,” the ambassador replied. “We cannot be certain, not yet. It came to our attention that besides meeting the Nox, O’Neill has recently encountered Thor of the Asguard. Now, O’Neill has been chosen by the Great Force, the force your people call The Muse.”  
  
Celeste inclined her head in assent.  
  
“The Great Force has accepted him?” Ohper asked.  
  
“Chose him, and O’Neill has in turn accepted The Muse,” she replied.  
  
“How do you know?” Ohper pressed.  
  
“His friends told me all is well with him. If he had tried to reject The Gift, he would already be dead,” she answered.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

  
O’Neill sat in the dark, long after the General left, thinking. He was of a mind to reach for the guitar again, but something he’d seen in Hammond’s eyes stopped him. So, he stretched out on his cot and tried to sleep, tried to ignore the impulse that kept after him to play. He sat up, reached for the 12-string, stopped, then stood and pulled on his fatigues. A song ran through his head as he strode down the empty halls of SGC – the lack of personnel the only clue that it was early in the morning, very early.  
  
O’Neill walked toward the gym, figuring that a couple of hours of vigorous exercise would quell this feeling. The sense that he should play, needed to play, had grown steadily over the past weeks. He hadn’t realized it, and therefore hadn’t resisted it, until Hammond’s unexpected visit. The look on George’s face told him it was time to give music a rest.  
  
But now there was this song replaying in his head with ever growing intensity and he was starting to wonder if, in fact, there was a problem. “Nah,” he told himself, “nothing a hard workout won’t cure.”  
  
O’Neill was at the corridor where he’d either turn right toward the gymnasium or left to the cafeteria, a path that would take him past Captain Carter’s office, an office he begrudged her because of its proximity to food. He glanced left, toward the cafeteria, thinking, “pie would be nice,” and noticed light shining into the dim hallway from the Captain’s office. The Captain was either working late, or very early. Intrigued, O’Neill decided pie would be nice and maybe he could entice his 2IC to join him.  
  
He turned toward the cafeteria and as he passed the lab, leaned inside the door and observed Carter jotting notes, oblivious to his presence. “Morning Captain,” O’Neill grinned. “What ‘cha doing?”  
  
He was rewarded to see Carter’s large blue eyes widen in surprise. “Colonel O’Neill. Good morning,” she answered. “You startled me, Sir. Is something wrong?”  
  
O’Neill gave her one of his winning grins, “No. Nothing’s wrong. I just couldn’t sleep and thought I’d get some pie at the cafeteria. You wanna come?” He smiled enticingly – a ‘Who can resist pie?’ smile.  
  
Captain Carter frowned slightly at the Colonel’s grin and shrugged, “Sure. I could use the sugar,” she yawned, “and a cup of coffee.” As she stood she suddenly stretched, “What time is it?”  
  
“Dunno,” O’Neill replied, distracted by the movement of Carter’s long, strong body as she stretched unselfconsciously, “early, very early,” he muttered.  
  
As they walked down the deserted halls, O’Neill glanced at Carter again and caught her looking at him curiously. To fill the awkward space she asked, “So why can’t you sleep, Sir?” Then stammered, realizing the possibly personal implications of her query, “if you don’t mind my asking.”  
  
O’Neill frowned and gave Carter another slide-long glance. Maybe she’d understand this. She was supposed to be some kind of genius. At least she’d be a safer bet than Doc Frazier or the General, since she was under his direct command and he could order her to shut up about what he was about to reveal. So he explained. “There’s this song going through my head. Can’t seem to shake it.”  
  
“Oh. When that happens to me I usually hum a few bars of ‘Jingle Bells’, the version by the electronic barking dogs. Works every time.” Carter answered. “What’s the song?” she asked, curious to know her CO’s taste in music.  
  
“It’s just a song, a piece of a tune, really. I haven’t named it yet.” O’Neill replied and then saw Carter gape.  
  
“An original song, Sir?” Carter exclaimed. “You mean you’re composing music.”  
  
O’Neill frowned darkly at her outburst, even in the empty cafeteria. “Yeah, keep it to yourself Carter. Would ya? I just wondered if this ever happens to you. You know, an idea is banging around in your head and you can’t get rid of it until you work it out, until you get it just right?”  
  
Carter grinned. “Yes, Sir. It happens to me all the time. That’s what I was doing in the lab. I was noticing on our last trip through the Star Gate that there seems to be a slight phase shift depending on whether we are on the sunward side of the planet or …”  
  
O’Neill cut her off. “Yeah, Carter. Save the physics for work hours, would ya? So, you’re telling me this feeling is normal?”  
  
Carter nodded. “Yes Sir. At least it is for me. I think it happens to lots of people. Are you telling me you’ve never had an idea before that you just had to act on – something that wouldn’t let go unless you did something about it?”  
  
O’Neill felt distinctly uncomfortable. Carter was damned attractive and he was suddenly aware that he was sitting alone with her, talking about… “Well, sure. I’ve had those, but they were always about… you know.” He took a bite of pie just to stop talking.  
  
Carter’s eyes widened a bit, but she recovered. “Sir, I meant an idea, not an urge.”  
  
O’Neill frowned at her, thought a moment and answered. “What’s the difference Carter? Anyway, this feels more like an urge than an idea. Does it matter?”  
  
Carter shrugged.  
  
O’Neill continued, “So what do I do?”  
  
She smiled, “Well if ‘Jingle Bells’ doesn’t do the trick, I’d just go with it, Sir. That’s what works for me.”  
  
O’Neill shook his head. “Maybe, but Carter nobody’s ever threatened to dissect you for it. I think Samuels and his cronies were pretty serious about taking me apart the last time that I ‘went with it.’ Besides, I’m not sure Hammond can take another spurt of creativity from me. At least not right now.”  
  
Carter considered her pie for a moment. Thrust her fork into it and took a bite. “So don’t tell him.” Then she grinned and continued. “That’s what I do – Sir.”  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
General Hammond commenced the weekly briefing for SG-1. He watched as the team filed into the briefing room and took their usual seats – O’Neill slumped kitty-corner from Daniel, Teal’c next to O’Neill, and Carter across from her CO. All seemed normal until Hammond paused for a moment longer. O’Neill, without realizing it, started rapping on the table top with his thumbs, a sort of syncopated rhythm Hammond easily recognized as the underpinnings of a song. “Damn,” the old man thought, “he’s at it again.”  
  
Hammond cleared his throat and said quietly, “Captain?” Carter nodded and proceeded with the briefing on their next objective, P2X124, a world they’d checked out with a MALP and found signs of industrialized society. As Carter recounted the MALP data, Hammond glanced at O’Neill. His thumbs were moving and, yes, so were the fingers of his left hand – still at it. Hammond’s heart fell as he realized he’d have to act, have to talk to Doctor Frazier, and have to confront O’Neill. “Damn it,” the General swore to himself. Why couldn’t it have just ended happily, just ended simply, just once?  
  
Carter finished her briefing quickly, aware of Hammond’s inattention, aware that everyone in the room was listening to O’Neill’s percussion solo -- everyone except O’Neill, who appeared totally oblivious to his actions and their effects on the rest. As she concluded, the General politely thanked her for her work and, as she sat, he told SG-1 to stand down for the next few days. Carter and O’Neill gaped, shocked by the announcement. They’d been scheduled to depart for P2X124 in 45 minutes. But rather than explain, Hammond simply dismissed them. Teal’c took the news without reaction. Daniel smiled, thinking of time for reading and writing. When they rose to file out of the room, the General asked Colonel O’Neill to remain.  
  
As his team filed out, O’Neill hung back, looking curiously at the General. “What’s up, Sir?” he asked.  
  
Hammond looked back, amazed. “Colonel O’Neill,” he began gently, “it seems that you are still – obsessed by whatever you encountered on your last mission.”  
  
O’Neill looked thunderstruck, ‘How did you know?’ was written clearly on his face. He started to object, but Hammond raised a hand, silencing him. “Don’t bother Colonel. I’ve made up my mind. I’m ordering you to undergo a complete exam, physical and psychological. If you still come up fit for duty, we’ll talk then. Dismissed, Colonel.”  
  
O’Neill blinked, opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, turned and walked silently out of the room. Hammond noticed he was still tapping a rhythm on his thigh as he stalked out. “Dammit,” he thought again. “He doesn’t even know he’s doing it.”  
  
O’Neill walked toward the Infirmary. He knew he should be upset. On one level he was, he was furious. He knew he should feel hurt that the General had again lost confidence in him. And he felt that too, he really did. But mostly, Jack felt relief. Relief that he’d be left alone to … He didn’t want to admit the rest: ‘time to play.’ The song was running through him and he felt strange excitement at the thought of time alone with his music, and that is what scared him, scared him stiff.  
  
O’Neill picked up the pace, heading for Doc Frazier, hoping she could solve this mystery, hoping she could save him from this obsession, hoping she could somehow find a way to stop the music.  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

  
Klaxons screamed. Sergeant Walter’s voice echoed throughout the SGC – “Unauthorized activation, unauthorized activation. Security to the Gate Room.” Personnel scrambled to their battle stations, ready to repel hostile forces.  
  
General Hammond appeared behind Walter, “Close the Iris, Sergeant,” the General ordered.  
  
Walter tapped keys furiously, tried again, and shook his head. “Not responding, General,” he reported.  
  
Hammond leaned to a microphone, “Prepare to repel incoming hostiles.” The troops in the Gate Room assumed even greater readiness, staring fixedly into the whirling blue chaos of an incoming wormhole, rifles at the ready.  
  
An instant later a small man with wild green hair entwined with vines and flowers, appeared on the platform. Hammond called into the mike, “Hold fire. Hold fire and stand down.” The troops relaxed. Then, Hammond punched a different button and announced, “Colonel O’Neill to the Gate Room,” before striding resolutely to greet Anteaus of the Nox.  
  
As Hammond approached, the small alien of untold power greeted him politely. “General Hammond, I apologize for this unanticipated visit. Please may I speak to O’Neill?”  
  
The General nodded, “Colonel O’Neill is on his way, Anteaus. Would you prefer to join us in my office where we can speak in private?”  
  
Anteaus lowered his head, indicating his agreement, and followed Hammond up the metal staircase two levels to the General’s office. Hammond barked over his shoulder to the Sergeant, “Have Colonel O’Neill report to my office.”  
  
Anteaus hopped into a couple of telephone books stacked into one of Hammond’s leather backed chairs and the General reminded himself to find a way to requisition a booster seat to afford visiting aliens greater dignity. Anteaus spoke without delay. “General Hammond, O’Neill has been a friend to the Nox.”  
  
Hammond nodded silently, waiting for the shoe to fall.  
  
“It has come to our attention that O’Neill has encountered the Great Force.”  
  
Hammond frowned and repeated the phrase, “the great force? I’m not sure I understand.”  
  
“Also called ‘The Muse’ by the Antonines. I believe O’Neill recently visited their home world and was ‘changed’,” Anteaus elaborated.  
  
Hammond sighed and decided to lay his cards on the table; the Nox had always been a benevolent race. Anteaus had actually brought SG-1 back from the dead on their first encounter. “That’s true. I thought he’d been cured of it. Unfortunately, it has come to my attention that the Colonel may still be ‘changed’ as you put it. I’m very concerned about him. Are you here to help O’Neill?”  
  
Anteaus stared at the General and said, “I am here to ensure he will help us.”  
  
At that moment O’Neill walked into the room, looking barely capable of helping himself, much less the Nox. His hair had several extreme cowlicks and dark smears under his normally bright eyes told Hammond that the Colonel had not been sleeping. O’Neill was, in fact, stupid with fatigue after yet another hard night. Still he did his best to appear awake and fully functional, saluting Hammond, “Reporting as ordered,” then turning to the Nox. “Anteaus! What are you doing here?”  
  
Hammond nodded to a chair, “Take a seat, Colonel. Anteaus was just asking me about your encounter with the Antonines and how you are getting along. I might as well give it to you both at once. Colonel the results of your tests indicate you are exhibiting extreme obsessive-compulsive symptoms. The disorder seems to express itself as …” Hammond glanced at a report on his desk and read aloud, “musical appetite of a highly aggressive nature.” Doctor Frazier reports that you are not even aware of much of your behavior.” Hammond winced at the look on O’Neill’s face at this last piece of news. “Therefore, Colonel, I am forced to …relieve…. What the hell?”  
  
Hammond had been looking directly at O’Neill when it happened. Hammond saw the Colonel’s hollow-eyed glare, as Jack realized he was about to be relieved of command for a second time. Then, nothing. Hammond was alone. The Nox had vanished and, apparently, taken O’Neill. At least it looked that way to the astonished General.  
  
Nanoseconds later, Jack found himself, still seated, at the base of the Star Gate on P3X531. “What the heck?” he wondered aloud, looking about. Anteaus was not there. The plaza was empty. He was alone.  
  
Jack sat another moment, waiting for a reception party, but seeing none. He stood and crossed the sun-drenched plaza. A snatch of tune drifted on the wind from … somewhere. Jack listened and liked it, despite the gnawing fear in his belly.  
  
At the far end of the plaza, Jack entered the shadows of buildings flanking the open area. His eyes adjusted to the relative gloom and he saw he was at a small gateway; a gateway to a passage that connected the plaza to a private courtyard nestled within the building’s core. He stepped through into an area of light and sound: wind lifted leaves, turning the small fruit trees from green to shimmering gold and back to green. A fountain plashed softly murmuring; sun dripped through the gilded leaves dappling the flagstones at his feet. “Perfect,” Jack breathed, “perfect.”  
  
A tall woman stepped from the shadows, “O’Neill,” she called warmly, “Welcome at last to the home of The Muse. I am Celeste. I am your guide.”  
  
Jack gazed at the tall woman, “at Celeste,” he corrected himself. Celeste smiled a disarming smile. He started to smile back and thought, “Watch your back, Jack.” Then spoke, “Pleased to meet you, Celeste. What am I doing here?”  
  
“I am your guide, follow and you will find what you seek, O’Neill,” Celeste answered, then turned and walked away. Jack followed, his heart in his mouth, unsure what would happen next. Celeste seemed gentle, welcoming, perfectly trustworthy, but his instincts were screaming “danger.” After all, this planet was where it had all started, this was the place where he’d been altered in some inexplicable way, a change that that led to his loss of command, had probably ended his military career. As he followed Celeste, Jack vowed he would find a way to deny this damned gift, find a way to get back to normal, turn his back on this overwhelming obsession for music, a gift he never asked for and didn’t want.  
  
Celeste led through the alcove to a path leading away from the plaza, toward the mountains beyond. As they walked, Jack felt his fear fade. Suddenly, it was simply a beautiful day on a beautiful planet. The air, like chilled Champaign, invigorated him despite the sleepless nights he’d spent in a private hell. Green velvet fields spread away from him, populated with a sprinkling of healthy, hardworking people, people who straightened from their tasks to raise a hand in greeting to Celeste and to stare at her off-world companion.  
  
Gradually, the path led from the verdant fields into groves of shimmering aspens. “Early successionals,” Jack heard Carter’s voice in his head. She always assumed he was ignorant of anything scientific. Although he knew little about physics, natural history was a different matter. A lifelong outdoorsman, he knew about trees, could name almost every temperate species, and most tropical species on Earth, knew which were edible, poisonous or good for making structures or weapons, and over the past months had begun to learn and name an ever expanding number seen only on other planets. Passing through the quaking aspen, the path grew steeper and rocky. Celeste slowed the pace, picking her way carefully up the slopes that seemed to rear up before them. Jack had no idea of the mountain’s height; its peak was lost in clouds that clustered part way up the slopes, obscuring the upper regions.  
  
Celeste glanced over her shoulder and slowed her pace again. Jack realized how beat-up he was from struggling against his ‘gift’ as she slowed so he could keep pace. “Damn,” he swore softly, smarting that it was necessary. “This is not a good thing.”  
  
After ascending the slope for several miles, Celeste veered sharply off the path, entering the dark stands of evergreens now covering the mountain’s midsection. Jack followed, relieved that he no longer had to climb, his calves cramping and knees trembling from the effort. Small piles of rock marked the otherwise invisible trail she followed as they walked into the deep forest. After another quarter of a mile, Jack heard water ahead. As they broke through into a glade, he saw a small stream tumbling down the mountainside and off into space, cascading in a thin silver ribbon that ended at a roiling pool. Beside the pool stood a small, cobble building the shape of a beehive.  
  
Celeste turned and spoke. “You will stay here, O’Neill. No one will disturb you. We will provide for your needs. Clearly you must rest and contemplate your gift. When you feel strong again, send word and I will come. We will speak of your future then O’Neill, not now. Not yet. For now, rest.” Then she simply turned and walked away.  
  
Jack watched her strong, slender back disappear among the great trees. Suddenly he was very tired. The sound of the water pounded in his ears. He walked to the stone hut, crawled inside and collapsed on a deep bed of sweet scented grass. Within moments he was asleep.  
  



	6. Chapter 6

  
Hammond had summoned Captain Carter to his office. As she entered and saluted, she thought the old man looked tired. Hammond gazed at her for a moment. “Take a seat, Captain.” She sat, waiting for an explanation. It came in a brief summary of Colonel O’Neill’s disappearance.  
  
“Captain, I want you to take a team to the Nox home-world and bring him back, if you can. Be diplomatic, but get it done. The Colonel is in no condition to be out there. I want him back here in one piece as soon as you can manage it. Understood?”  
  
Carter stood, “Yes, Sir.” She snapped a salute and left. Carter walked down the hall. She juggled all the details of organizing a rescue mission. She’d tap SG-3, with Teal’c and Daniel. That should be sufficient firepower. Besides, she thought, it’s not like we can outgun the Nox. If they want to keep the Colonel, they will keep him. Success would depend on finesse, not firepower.  
  
Carter called a pre-mission briefing for 22:00 hours. Arriving early, eager to move forward, she watched the others file into the room and suddenly it struck her that Colonel O’Neill was really not among them. “We’ve got to get him back,” Carter thought, “and it’s up to me to make sure we do.” She plunged into the briefing, organized mission equipment and by 24:00 hours she was stepping through the Star Gate  
  
In one step she passed through the event horizon and emerged on another planet, one covered with deep forests and, occasionally, visited by Gou’ald patrols. She directed the team to fan out and move forward, away from the alien Gate. No reason to make it more likely they’d run into trouble by hanging around the Gate. Teal’c took point and Carter, for the first time, found herself at the end of the column, the position favored by the Colonel, the place where he felt he could cover everyone’s lovely backside most effectively. He was usually right.  
  
As she trudged behind her squad, Carter calculated the Nox would know of their presence immediately. She was counting on it, counting on them showing themselves to her. If they didn’t… “Well, we will just have to worry about that if it happens,” she thought aloud.  
  
“If what happens?” Daniel asked, dropping back to walk beside her. Carter felt better with him nearby, more like herself, less like a poor imitation of O’Neill.  
  
Ignoring Daniel’s question, she said “Daniel, why would the Nox need Colonel O’Neill’s help? They are powerful, far more powerful than we are. What could he possibly do for them?”  
  
Daniel shook his head, “I don’t know, Sam. What bothers me is why they came to ask for his help and then abducted him. Where’s the logic in that?”  
  
“I don’t know, Daniel. Guess we’ll just have to ask them, assuming we find them.” Carter answered.  
  
Daniel smiled at her. “You’ll find them.”  
  
He said it with such confidence that Carter wished like hell she could feel it, too. “Yeah, I’ll find them.”  
  
In the end, the Nox found them. The team walked into a glade and there they were, ready to greet their friends from Earth. In fact, it was so easy that Carter suspected the Nox had placed themselves in her path. Either way, as Carter walked toward Ohper and Anteaus, she knew it was time to get down to business.  
  
Ohper smiled a child-like smile, “Captain Carter. It is good to see you again.” She said pleasantly. Anteaus walked up and took Carter’s hand in greeting.  
  
“Hi Ohper, Anteaus. It’s good to see you too.” She hesitated.  
  
“You have come about O’Neill,” Ohper suggested.  
  
“Well, yes!” Carter admitted, surprised the Nox would mention it first. “May I see him?”  
  
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Captain, but he is not with us.” Anteaus answered. “We sent him away.”  
  
“Away?” Carter repeated stupidly. “Away where?”  
  
“Don’t worry Captain, your O’Neill is perfectly safe and soon I sincerely hope, he will be perfectly well.” Ohper responded.  
  
“He’s not ‘perfectly well’ now?” Carter shot back, forgetting diplomacy. “What happened to him?”  
  
“You know, Captain.” Anteaus replied, frowning slightly at her lack of understanding, “you know. O’Neill encountered the Great Force. He’s been touched. Soon it will be time for his ordeal.”  
  
Alarmed, Carter almost shouted, “Ordeal!”  
  
Anteaus and Ohper smiled beatifically, “His passage will save us all.”  
  
Carter shot a glance at Daniel, imploring him to explain this. She received only a blank look. Daniel had no more insight into their situation than she did. “Great,” Carter sighed, then plunged ahead. “Anteaus, please explain why Colonel O’Neill will save you, exactly how he will ‘save you all’?”  
  
Anteaus exchanged a meaningful look with Ohper, “Captain, please join us, be seated and we will explain everything.”  
  
Carter signaled for the team to set up a perimeter defense, in case Goa’uld forces should stumble onto them. The Nox could vanish in an eye-blink, but she didn’t want to have to count on their protection. Better to be prepared, she thought recalling her first mission to this planet, the mission where she had been killed, along with O’Neill and the rest of SG-1, only to be resurrected by the Nox. She took a seat on a rude bench constructed of branches. Anteaus and Ohper sat across the fire pit from her, holding hands like children. Carter waited politely for them to speak.  
  
Anteaus stood solemnly and in a Storyteller’s voice, began to chant.  
  
In timeless chaos, time awoke, with striking of a primal stroke.  
From nothingness order began, guide and goal of sentient hand;  
On infinite struggle all depends, ‘tween order and chaos, endless end.  
  
In battle – turmoil cracks the calm, inspires creation’s perfect dawn.  
On sun, on Nox, on fading star, existence breeds in chaotic power.  
On Nox, on star, on brightening sun, the warring gods create as one.  
  
If warring ends, existence stops, Space unbends, destroying Nox.  
If striving ends, existence halts. Time unwinds, destroying Nox.  
  
Hear Before-time’s shrieking null, know the nothing’s endless pull.  
Fear the chaos; praise its power, worship order, perfection’s flower.  
  
Carter sat puzzling after Anteaus concluded his ‘explanation’. His recitation seemed to clearly recount the Nox creation story, and foretell Doomsday. Could it be that the Doomsday was no longer just a logical end point, but a real threat?  
  
Carter stood slowly, still gazing across the fire pit into Anteaus’ kindly eyes. “I’m sorry but I don’t understand. Your story was lovely, powerful, but … what does it have to do with Colonel O’Neill?”  
  
Ohper cocked her small head and smiled, “Why everything. We learned, by our ways, that he had been touched by the Great Force when you visited the home world of the Antonines.”  
  
Carter nodded, wishing they’d stop using the world “touched” to describer her Colonel.  
  
“When we learned this, we looked into our hearts and discovered that there is more to O’Neill than we realized.” She continued, “For example, he was born under a powerful sign on your planet, the dark planet Pluto. This planet travels far, follows an erratic path, and draws others into the darkness far away from your natal sun. Yet it always returns to the light, as O’Neill returns.”  
  
Carter shook her head, “I don’t understand.”  
  
But then she heard Daniel say quietly, “Sam, I do.”  
  
When Carter turned to gaze at Daniel, he looked worried. “Daniel, what?” She asked.  
  
Daniel glanced at her then leaned toward the Nox, “O’Neill has been touched by the sublime. That makes him sacred.” They nodded, smiling. “And the sacred person saves the rest of us through his ordeal,” more nods. Daniel turned toward Carter, “through his sacrifice, Sam.”  
  
Daniel turned back to the Nox, “he is undergoing purification now?”  
  
Ohper smiled, “Yes and when he is perfect, his gift will save us.”  
  
Carter’s heart fell. They were not discussing the gift O’Neill had received, she realized, but rather the gift he was expected to give. Carter could imagine only one thing.  
  



	7. Chapter 7

  
Light years away, Jack O’Neill opened his eyes. He smelled grass, sweet and clean. It was cold outside, he could tell from his breath, but snuggled inside his mound of straw he was warm and content. He’d rested for the first night in weeks, slept without dreams.  
  
Now he stretched slowly unwinding his long legs, carefully extending his arms in the strange dark space. He sat up carefully, expecting the aches that dogged his waking each morning. He felt surprisingly good, no catch in his right knee, no pain in his lower back.  
  
“Sweet,” he murmured and stood, stooping to avoid hitting his head on the low roof of the hut. He emerged into a crystal blue day. The rushing of water nearby drowned out other sounds and made him acutely aware of the call of nature. He strolled a short way downstream and relieved himself, feeling his stomach growl, wishing he had a power bar, even an MRE.  
  
He gnawed a birch twig and rubbed it briskly against his teeth, enjoying the flavor, then stooped and raised a handful of water to his mouth, swished and spit. The water was cool and sweet in the rapidly growing heat of the coming day. The pool looked inviting.  
  
Jack glanced around. Celeste had said no one would bother him here. He unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off along with his t-shirt and bent to remove his boots and shinnied out of his pants and boxers. He walked easily across the large flat cobbles to the water’s edge and waded partway in, then plunged. The cold water took his breath away for a moment until his skin went numb. Then he felt only the smooth wash of water against his body as he swam toward the waterfall, dove down and under it and emerged in the niche behind the wall of falling water. He clambered out onto the mist-slick rocks and sat watching the water roar past, shivering with cold and exhilaration. A trout the size of a city bus cruised past his toes.  
  
Jack watched as the trout arched its torpedo body into the crashing water, probably to snag an insect, and then returned to its station just behind the falls. It was a lovely, great brook trout. He could see the pale green vermiculi across her broad back, the rose colored spots traced with blue halos, the white-edged fins. “Perfect,” he thought.  
  
Jack watched her feed until he was shivering with cold and then rejoined her in the pool, swam under the falls and back to the shore. He emerged clean and refreshed. He walked across the hot flat stones toward the hut where he’d left his clothes. They were gone.  
  
Jack looked inside the hut, not there either. Exasperated and more than a little embarrassed he walked back down the trail, but found no sign of clothing – not a stitch – no boots, no pants, no shirt. “Perfect!” he growled, stalking back to the hut.  
  
As he returned Jack noticed something that, a moment ago, had not been there – a small white bundle of cloth. He quickly stooped and investigated, finding a tunic that reached to his mid-calf, a hooded cloak and a belt, all of soft, loosely woven fabric. Too disgusted to bother with further searching, he slipped the tunic over his head, cinched the belt around his midsection and threw the cloak on. It was warm and felt good against his damp skin. “Celeste said they would provide,” Jack muttered, “but I wish they’d have left my hat … and my damned boots!”  
  
He carefully examined the area for signs of who might have brought the clothes and where they’d come from but on the smooth, dry stone there was no sign of any kind, just his own damp footprints drying quickly on the warm stones. As the twin suns rose higher, Jack felt increasingly hungry. Barefoot he was unwilling to stray far from the stone beach. He leaned against the outside wall of the hut, listening to the roar of the falls, feeling the mist in the air, the heat of the suns warming the stones against his back. He dozed. When he awoke, his stomach was growling. He smelled food. Jack blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering how long he’d slept, then put his hand down to rise and touched a wooden platter at his side.  
  
“Room service?” he muttered as he lifted the platter and sniffed. It smelled good, like rice and lamb. There was also flat bread and greens. Jack didn’t hesitate. He was hungry and seemed to be entirely at the tender mercies of the Antonines. He knew he wouldn’t get far barefoot on the scree-covered mountain. So there was no choice, really, but to relax and enjoy the solitude. “Might as well eat it while it’s hot,” he said and took a bite of lamb wrapped in bread.  
  
After consuming the last bite, Jack licked his fingers and decided to investigate how hot food had arrived halfway up the mountain. But as he tried to stand an undeniable fatigue settled over him. He struggled to rise, but couldn’t. “Drugged,” he said. “They must have drugged me,” and toppled over on the stony shore.  
  
Jack awoke in the dark hut and knew he was not alone when a form moved, blocking the light from the door. He blinked, tried to clear his head. What had happened? His mouth was dry and he felt hot. He began to rise from the grass bed. Firm hands pressed him back. “Patience O’Neill,” a voice said gently. “You were more ill than we understood. I should not have left you here alone. You are safe. There is nothing to fear. Lay back. Rest.”  
  
Jack gazed into the light from the doorway and saw a form slip through the low opening. Was it Celeste? Her body arched as she moved through. Something in the swift motion reminded Jack of the trout he’d watched under the falls. Somehow the two seemed the same. But the connection made no sense and, as he struggled to think clearly, fatigue overwhelmed him. He drifted back to sleep, dreaming of swimming on a hot summer day in a cool mountain pool beside women as graceful and quick as trout.  
  
When Celeste returned to the hut, O’Neill was asleep again. Her watcher had summoned her immediately, at the first sign that O’Neill was unwell. Celeste came immediately from her nearby camp. They found him collapsed beside the hut, burning with fever. Celeste’s watcher helped her move him into the cool stone hut and then left to summon the Seer to aid him. As Celeste waited, she prepared O’Neill for the ceremony to come.  



	8. Chapter 8

  
Carter glared at Daniel, unwilling to believe. “Sacrifice!” She repeated, “What do you mean?”  
  
Daniel looked back evenly, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Sam. Maybe we should try to find him.”  
  
Carter nodded, “Right. Anteaus, please tell us where you sent Colonel O’Neill. If he can help you I am sure he will, but we have to find him. Will you help us?”  
  
Anteaus nodded, “Yes. O’Neill should have friends beside him. I will send you to him, to the Antonine home world.” Carter began to smile and then, realized she was no longer looking at Anteaus. Instead she was in the plaza on P3X531, Celeste’s planet. Daniel was beside her, but Teal’c and the rest of the team were nowhere to be seen.  
  
“C’mon Daniel, let’s find someone to ask about the Colonel,” Carter said and strode across the plaza. They heard a distant calling. Carter trotted toward the voices. Daniel followed, urged on by his understanding of the Antonines’ language. The voice was calling out in Greek for the Seer, the community healer, to come to the aid of the visitor. Something told Daniel that they were about to find Jack.  
  
“Sam, they are calling for ‘the Seer’, the local shaman,” he explained, “calling for the Seer to help their visitor.”  
  
Carter glanced at Daniel and they quickly closed the distance and joined a growing crowd of Antonines. Daniel asked about Jack, ‘the visitor’ and was directed toward a slender young woman. Carter gave a nod to Daniel and he approached the woman and inquired about the Colonel.  
  
As Carter waited, she watched for someone likely to be a ‘Seer’ to appear, expecting it would be an older person, probably a man. Instead, a very young woman, almost a child, joined the group and was greeted with exclamations. The woman speaking to Daniel broke away from him and went to the young priestess, bowed and stated her problem quickly. Then the group turned en masse toward the mountains and walked swiftly away.  
  
“Daniel, what’s happening?” Carter called.  
  
“They are bringing the Seer to Jack. He’s on that mountain somewhere. I didn’t understand why, exactly.” Daniel replied.  
  
Carter shrugged and jogged after the rapidly retreating crowd. Daniel followed. Carter called to Daniel over her shoulder as they closed the gap to the Antonines, “We’re off to see the wizard.”  
  
The group did not order them away, so Carter fell into step at the end of the crowd. As she walked, she spoke quietly with Daniel. “So, we’re going to the Colonel, you’re sure?”  
  
“Well, I’m pretty sure. How many visitors can there be on a planet? Besides, whoever this crowd is taking the Seer to help, he’s in trouble. Wanna bet its Jack?” Daniel asked trying to lighten Sam’s back mood with a little levity.  
  
Carter smiled politely and continued worrying. This could be a wild-goose chase. They could easily end up at the hut of some other visitor and have wasted -- how much time would it take to ascend the mountain? Several hours at least, she knew. Carter glanced at the horizon. The twin suns were already well past their zenith. On Earth they’d have maybe three hours to sunset. “The Colonel had better not be very far away or we’ll be hiking through the night,” she said to Daniel as they walked.  
  
“I was thinking the same thing, Sam. In fact, I was thinking that shaman usually prefer to work at night, especially in front of a crowd.” Daniel said raising his brows.  
  
“What do you mean?” Carter asked, not liking the look on Daniel’s face.  
  
“Well,” Daniel explained, “Anteaus and Ohper told us that Jack would ‘save them all’. Now we are in the company of the local shaman, heading for what is pretty clearly the sacred place for these people as night approaches. Sam, we should be prepared for an interesting evening.”  
  
Carter continued the thought, “We need a plan of attack if we walk in on the Antonines preparing to accept the Colonel’s gift.”  
  
Daniel frowned and added, “Anteaus said he should have friends beside him. We are meant to be here for Jack.”  
  
“God, Daniel, if these people are preparing to …” Carter couldn’t say the words.  
  
Daniel could. “Offer a human sacrifice.”  
  
Carter nodded, “How the hell are two of us going to stop them?”  
  
As she walked into the evening, Carter raked her brain for a strategy. She found none. She had no idea of where they were going. When Daniel questioned the Antonines, he received vague answers, nothing specific enough to allow her to move ahead and mount a rescue. Carter fingered her rifle. She was fully armed and so was Daniel. If they had to… but there must be another way, something that would not require her to hurt these gentle people. Carter stopped and reconsidered. These gentle people were about to kill Colonel O’Neill. If necessary, she would do what she had to do to save his life.  
  
As Carter and Daniel clambered up the slippery mountainside in the dark, a strange booming sound, almost a vibration, rolled down the slopes to greet them. Something about the booming rhythm seemed familiar. Carter was almost certain she’d heard the syncopated beat somewhere… where?  
  
Daniel touched her arm, “Isn’t that the same beat Jack was tapping on the table at our last briefing?”  
  
“Oh-my-gosh, that’s where I heard it!” Carter agreed. “Do you think it’s the Colonel?”  
  
Daniel shook his head slightly, “Not by himself. There are about twenty drummers making that sound. But it is definitely the same rhythm.”  
  
Carter pressed on, hoping to reach their destination, whatever that was, before the crowd. Hoping that in the few moments she might be able to free O’Neill, or at least assess the need to rescue him before it became hopeless without firepower.  
  
The pounding drums grew louder and faster, the intensity of them made Carter jumpy. Her heart was beating faster than normal and she felt swept up in the booming that rolled through the darkening forest. Then suddenly the crowd ahead of her turned off to the right and plunged into the forest depths. Daniel touched her hand, “He should be somewhere directly ahead now. Should we try to outpace them?”  
  
Carter hissed, “Yes” and picked up her pace to a quick trot, swinging wide around the people ahead of them. Daniel was beside her as she ran through the dark forest of giant trees. Somewhere ahead the drummers beat louder and faster. She felt the drums vibrating her chest and belly as she ran toward the sound. Then, through the trees she saw a brightening, like a bonfire. She sprinted forward, her rifle at the ready, praying Daniel was still with her.  
  
She reached the edge of the trees peered into a small glade, a golden waterfall spilled down the face of the mountain, colored orange and red by the flickering fires of dozens of campfires. And in the middle of the glade was a platform with a still form wrapped in white. “Daniel,” Carter hissed as she stopped and crouched in the brush at the edge of the glade, “what is that?”  
  
Daniel looked a moment and said slowly, “Unless I am mistaken, that’s an Alter.”  
  
Carter pulled out her monocular and peered at the structure in the flickering light. There was a person on the platform, a man. “Daniel,” Carter said breathlessly, “that’s the Colonel.” She started forward but Daniel grabbed her and pulled her down just as the drumming stopped.  
  
“Too late,” he hissed, “it’s starting.”  
  



	9. Chapter 9

  
Jack awoke from dreams of cool water and swimming fish and stared into a brilliant night sky. A sea of stars overhead seemed to spill down to touch the earth. It was like flying through the night sky, or falling, Jack knew both sensations very well from innumerable night missions and HALO drops. Still this was different, no airplane enclosed him; no parachute supported him. He was swimming in a night sky awash with star-shine.  
  
A drumming pounded through his body, like the beating of his own heart, familiar, insistent. It was the same scrap of tune that had plagued him for weeks, but now the music was right, in complete accord with his mind and body, in step with the Universe. Then inexplicably the drums stopped. It was as if his heart seized. Jack cried out and an anguished screaming joined in from the surrounding stars.  
  
At the edge of the glade, Carter winced at the screams. She hated bagpipes and there were at least fifty of the damned things filling the night with their nasal agony. She raised her monocular and saw the Colonel move. “Thank God, Daniel he’s alive.”  
  
“Well, sure,” Daniel replied reasonably. “A human sacrifice isn’t much good if he’s already dead.”  
  
“Oh, yeah.” Carter answered, feeling stupid, but still wildly relieved to know O’Neill was still breathing, if only for a short time by the Antonines’ evening programme.  
  
Then the wailing bagpipes stopped and the drumming continued in an incessant rhythm. The crowd parted and the young ‘Seer’ advanced to the Alter. Celeste stood. She had knelt at O’Neill’s side and now bowed low as the younger woman laid her hand first on Jack’s head and then on his heart.  
  
Carter tensed. This seemed the moment when the blow might fall. She raised her weapon as the young woman leaned over the Colonel, stroked his face and then bent low and kissed him deeply. Carter watched transfixed as O’Neill responded. He tried to raise an arm, but it was firmly bound to the Alter. The crowd watched in silent anticipation.  
  
Daniel leaned over to her ear and whispered, “I think Jack’s drugged. And, I might have been wrong about the kind of ‘sacrifice’ involved here.”  
  
Carter shot him a glance, “Gee d’ya think?” before turning to watch. The young woman had finished phase one, apparently and proceeded to … “Daniel, she’s got a knife,” Carter hissed as the Seer raised a long, thin dagger into the firelight. Carter snapped her rifle up to her shoulder and squeezed off a burst over the crowd. The shots cracked, reverberating off the mountain face.  
  
The drumming stopped; the crowd turned and stared. Carter charged forward, shouted, “Get back!” and waved her weapon menacingly. The crowd parted allowing her to approach the Seer who still held the wicked-looking knife over the Colonel. Daniel ran along behind her and kept trying to tell her something. He sounded upset, but Carter was concentrating on projecting force, focusing all her energy on showing such power that no one would dare challenge her right or ability to interfere. She was facing down an overwhelmingly superior force. If the crowd realized that fact, all three of them would be at the Antonines’ mercy.  
  
“Sam, they aren’t going to hurt him!” Daniel insisted.  
  
“Damn right they’re not!” she snapped, “that one’s got a knife and I’m not taking any chances. Tell her to back off, Daniel!”  
  
Daniel repeated her order to the Seer, who motioned Carter to come forward and join her at O’Neill’s side. In the flickering firelight, Carter couldn’t tell whether the Colonel was dead or alive. He wasn’t moving.  
  
“Daniel tell her to release the Colonel,” Carter ordered. She heard Daniel speak to the Seer, never taking her eyes off the knife in the young woman’s hand.  
  
Daniel listened to the Seer’s animated reply and translated. Carter could tell from his patient tone he was trying to calm her. He said, “The Seer says that Jack has not been harmed by her or any of her people. But, she says, he will die if we don’t let her complete the ritual.”  
  
“Is that a threat?” Carter asked urgently.  
  
Daniel shook his head, “I don’t think so, but it’s hard to be certain. She’s using formal language, probably because this is a very solemn ceremony. It makes it hard to grasp the precise intent. There is too little nuance.”  
  
Carter nodded and continued, “Tell her he must not be harmed and find out what she wants to do.”  
  
Daniel translated the question and listened again, then replied. “She says he will be ‘liberated.’ Sam, even I don’t like the sound of that.”  
  
Carter looked from the Seer’s burning eyes to Celeste’s. Celeste seemed almost willing to speak, if protocol hadn’t prevented it. “Daniel, speak directly to Celeste. Talk to her in English,” Carter ordered.  
  
“Right,” Daniel said bowing to the Seer and then turning to Celeste, he repeated the request that they release O’Neill and asked their intentions.”  
  
Celeste looked uncomfortable at being singled out to speak in lieu of the Seer, but listened and answered politely. “O’Neill came to us and was chosen by the Muse. He is possessed of a very powerful gift. We celebrate his good fortune, but have come to understand that the gift harmed …” she paused searching for the proper words, “caused harm. This is not our way. It is not the way of the Muse. This ritual is … will relieve O’Neill’s suffering, free him.”  
  
Celeste concluded and smiled. The smile reassured Carter, more than words, that they meant no harm. Still the Seer held a knife and had been about to use it. ‘For what?’ Carter asked herself again, but she wasn’t sure. She hesitated for a moment, gazing from Celeste to the Seer and then to O’Neill lying so still.  
  
In the flickering light, he looked already dead. She wanted to look away, not to ever see him like this. Despite months of dangerous missions together, or maybe because of the danger, Carter had never regarded Jack O’Neill as quite mortal. Not until now.  
  
Carter forced aside her morbid fears and made the call. “Daniel, thank them for helping the Colonel. Ask them to proceed and tell them I will stay here beside him. If they need convincing, tell them the Nox sent us to be by his side through his ‘ordeal’.”  
  
As Daniel spoke, the Seer nodded, then stepped forward and the drumming began, softly at first, then growing louder and faster. Carter stepped back and stood at the head of the wooden Alter with Daniel at beside her. She felt her body shake with the vibrations from the huge drums invisible somewhere beyond the fire lit glade. The beating went on incessantly as the Seer recited an incantation that Daniel didn’t bother to translate.  
  
The Seer danced slowly around the Alter. The blade gleamed in the dancing light as she weaved and bent to the drums. At some invisible signal, the screaming pipes began again and Carter saw the Colonel pull against his restraints. The Seer bent low over him, whispering and soothing him, then took hold of his hair and sliced a hank from the top. Carter couldn’t help but grin. No one was likely to even notice the missing hair, not even the Colonel, given his usual scruffy looks.  
  
The grin froze on her face. The Seer suddenly slipped the knife inside O’Neill’s loose woolen tunic and, in one swift motion, sliced it from neck to midriff. Then the young woman straddled the Alter and O’Neill. She placed her hands on his chest, swaying and weaving, uttering unbelievably sorrowful wailing. Carter’s skin prickled at the sound.  
  
Suddenly, the Colonel’s eyes opened. The young woman leaned down, placed her mouth on his. Then she pulled a cord at her waist and her loose gown fell away. Carter heard Daniel’s gasp at the sight of the reed thin girl. Naked in the dancing light, the Seer slipped her hands under the hem of O’Neill’s tunic and slipped it up, moving her hands up his bare thighs. The crowd murmured in appreciation. Carter saw the Colonel gasp and pull at his restraints, reaching for the girl, responding to her touch.  
  
Carter told herself this was not something she should watch, that she should look away, but she didn’t. She feared for O’Neill’s safety. It was her job to watch over him, no matter what her personal feelings, no matter what he was doing. Besides, what he was doing at the moment was simply fascinating, like watching a car wreck in slow motion.  
  
The music, and the raw scene before her, was mesmerizing. “Daniel’s right,” Carter thought, “the Colonel must be drugged.” O’Neill showed no inhibition, just basic animal desire for the girl sitting astride his bare chest. His skin glistened. The Seer bent low. She pressed her mouth to his again. He responded hungrily. The girl pulled away for a brief moment. Carter saw the knife flash as she cut the cord restraining one of his arms. He immediately grabbed her and pulled her roughly down against his chest, her long red hair fell across him. The drums and bagpipes raged.  
  
The crowd surged and swayed to the rhythms. People began to dance in the same undulating dance Carter had witnessed on her first encounter with these people ten weeks earlier. Suddenly the crowd pressed forward, blocking her view. Carter lost sight of the Alter for what could have only been a few moments. Carter pushed forward against the crush of dancers and when she could again see the platform, it was empty. The Colonel was gone.  
  
The Seer stood alone on the platform. The young woman began to sway and keen to the drumming which grew instantly stronger and faster, then the pipes screamed again and the Seer broke into a wailing lament that filled the glade with pulsating music.  
  
Where was O’Neill? Alarmed, Carter pushed forward to find him. Then she saw attendants carrying a litter through the seething crowd. He was there, on the litter, wrapped in a white robe. They carried the Colonel directly to her and dumped him at her feet. Then, with a bow and brief word of thanks (probably) to Daniel, the men turned away and rejoined the crowd, unwilling to miss any more of the evening’s wild merriment.  
  
Carter stooped. The Colonel was out cold: unconscious or asleep. “Probably drugged, like Daniel thought,” Carter decided as she shook him, slapped his face gently. He didn’t respond. She felt his pulse, too rapid, but strong. His skin felt strangely hot and dry under her fingers. “Daniel, I think the Colonel is pretty sick,” Carter spoke over the wild music that was rocking the night. “He feels hot and I can’t wake him up.”  
  
Daniel bent over O’Neill and sniffed. “She drugged him, Sam. When they kissed, I think she was drugging him. I recognize the smell from … research I did in Macedonia.”  
  
“So what do we do?” Carter shouted over the wailing pipes, “we can’t just sit here and wait for him to wake up.”  
  
“Why not?” Daniel asked. “It’s a warm night. I think he’ll be fine, Sam,” Daniel said, patting her hand. “If you want to do something, try giving him some water. He’s probably pretty dehydrated from…. Well, never mind. Just trust me on this.”  
  
Carter touched the Colonel’s forehead with the back of her hand. He was burning up. She looked at Daniel again, but before she could speak, he smiled knowingly, reassuring her.  
  
“It’s a perfectly normal reaction to the drugs, Sam. It will pass with time,” he said again.  
  
Carter pulled her canteen off her web gear and poured water onto her kerchief. She touched it to the Colonel’s forehead. He stirred and mumbled something about fishing. “What a fanatic,” she thought smiling grimly. By the time she’d dampened his mouth and forehead again, the cloth was dry. So she rewet it before wiping it across his hot neck and chest.  
  
As Carter worked, the drums pounded ceaselessly, in synch with her own pounding heart. The hours slipped by as she waited for the Colonel to revive. She drifted on the music, felt it inside her. Early in the morning, she finally fell asleep.  
  



	10. Chapter 10

  
Carter awoke to a deserted glade. The only sound was the rushing waterfall. Daniel was gone; the crowd was gone. She blinked and realized she’d fallen asleep and sometime during the night had laid her head on the Colonel’s chest. She tried to sit up, careful not to wake him, but his arm was around her, holding her. Carter’s heart was pounding at the idea she was in O’Neill’s arms. Visions of the previous night filled her with rash possibilities. She listened to his heartbeat, felt his chest rise and fall. It seemed like normal sleep. She pulled slowly away. To her relief, the Colonel didn’t stir.  
  
She sat a moment contemplating him. He looked like hell. He was missing a hunk of hair, sporting a two-day beard and wore nothing but a white woolen robe. At that moment, Carter thought he was far and away the most desirable man she’d ever seen. She sighed and told herself to get a grip.  
  
Colonel Jack O’Neill had fascinated Sam Carter long before they met. She’d been intrigued by the notorious Colonel O’Neill ever since reading his mission report from the first Star Gate mission, the one to Abydos. So much so that she used her Pentagon connections to keep track of O’Neill. Long before she stepped foot in Cheyenne Mountain, she knew the scuttlebutt on his ruined marriage, although she didn’t understand the reasons until much later. She’d even made fair progress researching his pre-SGC career. Carter was impressed, from his high marks as a mere boot through his years of training and advancement, until the trail stopped cold when he entered special ops.  
  
Now the man slept beside her. At least she hoped he was asleep; if the drugs had a more debilitating effect, she’d have a helluva time getting him down the mountain.  
  
Carter frowned and stared at the Colonel, his eyelids flickered slightly, as if in REM sleep. “Probably a good sign,” she decided. Then, without warning, he grabbed her wrist and said softly, “Where am I?”  
  
Carter answered, “P3X531, Sir.”  
O’Neill grunted. “Carter.” Then groaned, opened his eyes and sat up. “What happened?”  
  
She started to reply, then blushed at the thought of explaining. O’Neill saw her hesitate, realized he was naked under the robe and concluded the worst. “Jesus, Sam. I didn’t… we didn’t…”  
  
“No, Colonel. We didn’t,” Carter answered quickly to prevent further embarrassment. “You did.”  
  
O’Neill stared at her a moment, his cheeks growing rosy under his stubble. “I did,” he croaked. Carter nodded. “With who, exactly?” he demanded, looking around for his alleged partner.  
  
Carter opened her mouth to explain and stopped. She couldn’t find the words. “Where the hell is Daniel?” she wondered wildly, willing him to appear and interrupt this horrible conversation. “He should be explaining last night’s ritual. It’s his field of expertise after all, he’s a man.”  
  
But Daniel had vanished, probably wandered off with the Antonines. So, Carter thought a moment and spoke. “Sir, you were sent here by the Nox. We came after you and found you in the middle of a … ceremony. The Antonines drugged you and you were restrained on a sort of Alter. There was a young priestess, called a Seer, officiating and she had a knife. It looked like she was going to use it on you, so I stopped her. Then, after Celeste told us that you would die if we stopped the ceremony, we … I decided to let them proceed. Sir, do you remember anything about last night?” Carter concluded feeling O’Neill’s eyes on her, feeling the hot flush creep up her collar.  
  
The Colonel shook his head slowly. “I remember a trout, fish and something about women swimming. It was summer, very hot. The water was cool, but… then I was falling, or flying maybe and there were stars everywhere.” He grimaced and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. “ I remember… music, electric guitars. Jimmy Hendricks or the Doors, I think, and fishing. That’s it.” O’Neill looked at her cautiously. “What else was there?”  
  
“Ask Daniel,” Carter blurted, stood and walked away, leaving O’Neill to figure it out.  
  



	11. Chapter 11

  
Over the ridge from the waterfall, Daniel and Celeste listened to the chorus of morning birdsong filling the forest. As Celeste’s guest, Daniel was enjoying a breakfast of lamb and flatbread. The two had talked most of the night and as dawn broke on the mountain Celeste suggested they retire to her camp, just upstream of the waterfall, for food and privacy.  
  
Daniel took another bite of his sandwich, chewed and spoke. “Was Jack drugged, Celeste?” He looked at his friend.  
  
She nodded, “Yes, Daniel. He was.”  
  
“Why?” Daniel asked.  
  
“Your friend O’Neill was already very weak when the Nox sent him to us, far weaker than we knew. I had hoped to accomplish his cure with time and solitude. I did not plan to perform the ancient rituals. When he collapsed, I had to use the ancient rites. It was the only way to free him quickly. If I had delayed, O’Neill would have almost certainly died.”  
  
“Collapsed? Died?” Daniel repeated, shocked. “Jack was sick?”  
  
“Not sick, Daniel, dying,” Celeste repeated. “Fever burned inside O’Neill. It was a sign of a terrible struggle within. O’Neill had rejected the gift. His body was at war with his will, um, what is the word? His body was at war with his spirit. Do you understand?” Celeste gazed at Daniel earnestly.  
  
This was important, Daniel realized. He shook his head. “No not really. Was he being punished by the Muse?”  
  
Celeste thought a moment before answering, searching for the precise words. “Not punished, Daniel – consumed. The gift is a great and powerful force. But, O’Neill is strong-willed. He chose a different path for his life. His will is to follow the path he chose, regardless of the cost. The Nox sent him to us when they saw that he had battled the gift and how he had already suffered.” Celeste sighed and continued, “When I realized he was near death, there was no time to be gentle.”  
  
Daniel nodded, trying to absorb the idea that Jack had almost killed himself by battling his compulsion. Somehow an iron will just wasn’t obvious in the man, at least not immediately. He seemed too casual, too easy-going. At least, unless you crossed him and saw that look in his eye, the one that said ‘Don’t push it; you’ll lose.’”  
  
Daniel nodded again and changed the subject. Daniel knew it was not the time to think through Jack’s propensity for ‘do or die’ situations. So he set aside that line of questions and moved on to other things. “Um, what about the Seer. Why did she … um … have sex with Jack? Exactly what did that have to do with curing him?”  
  
Celeste smiled. “It did nothing for O’Neill. It was simply the payment required by the Seer.”  
  
“Payment!” Daniel exclaimed.  
  
“Yes, Daniel. O’Neill came with nothing. He had only the clothes he wore. I offered these, but the Seer rejected them. Fortunately, she had heard O’Neill is a tall man, a powerful man. She named him as acceptable payment of her price. He had nothing else to give.”  
  
“But Jack didn’t have a choice in the matter, Celeste. Among our people, we choose to have sex, or not to have sex and we respect a persons’ right to choose.”  
  
Celeste nodded quickly, “Yes. I understand. That is why the Nox sent you and Captain Cater to speak for him. He could not speak for himself. By allowing the ritual, Carter gave permission for the Seer to save O’Neill and, of course, to claim payment. You should explain to O’Neill that Carter saved his life. You may also tell him the Seer was well-pleased.”  
  
Daniel had managed to keep a straight face until this last pronouncement. “What?” he snorted, “I don’t think I’ll be telling Jack that!” Then seeing her surprise, recovered, “Oh, excuse me, Celeste. I intended no disrespect. It’s just that we have certain … proscriptions … concerning ‘sexual relations.’ We don’t usually talk about them with other people. The Antonines do?”  
  
Celeste smiled broadly. “We enjoy ‘sexual relations’ very much, Daniel. They are an essential part of our praise and delight in the Muse. The Seer, as a leader within Antonine society, is especially adept. She is chosen for her position in large part on her aptitude. Her praise of O’Neill is a great compliment. It may even form the basis for future relations between our people.”  
  
Daniel looked hard at Celeste. Did she intend the double meaning of her words? He wasn’t really sure, but her smiling eyes made him think she might. He smiled back and moved on to the big question. “Celeste, the Nox said Jack’s sacrifice ‘will save us all.’ Do you know what that means?”  
  
She nodded and smiled.  
  
“Will you tell me?” Daniel asked.  
  
Celeste gazed back at Daniel evenly and said simply, “That story is not yet written, Daniel. I will tell you that the Nox believe that O’Neill’s first loyalty, that which caused him to reject the gift of the Muse, is absolutely essential to their survival, and to ours as well. O’Neill serves a greater force, a force whose time is upon us. As for exactly how he will save us, have patience. For now, O’Neill is safe. He is with you. Leave the future to the future. It is enough to know he has an important destiny. We all do.”  



	12. Chapter 12

  
Daniel hiked back to the waterfall alone. As he walked by the swift-flowing stream, he was lost in thought. “Destiny!” He couldn’t get the word out of his mind, “destiny.” Soon he heard the roar of the falls and then saw the stream disappear down the sheer mountain cliff into the small, clear pool below him. Sam was having a swim. He saw her back flash in the liquid blue as she dove under the falls. “I should have brought a suit,” Daniel thought as he scrambled down the path beside the falls and walked the last hundred meters. Jack wasn’t around. “Maybe he’s in the hut,” Daniel thought. “Probably worn out,” he laughed to himself.  
  
Daniel called out, “Hello!” just to let everyone know he was back, stuck his head in the hut and collided with Sam. “My gosh! Sam! When did you come out of the pool?” Daniel blurted.  
  
Sam just stared at him. “I wasn’t in the pool and where have you been. Do you know the Colonel has been asking me what happened last night! That is definitely your area of expertise, Daniel. So get in there and tell him, for crying out loud!” As Carter stalked off, Daniel shook his head. “I was sure you were swimming,” he said and then ducked through the entrance to check on Jack.  
  
“All things considered, Jack, you look okay,” he said by way of greeting. O’Neill, with his missing chunk of hair and two-day beard glared from the gloom like a caged animal.  
  
“Get my clothes, dammit!” he growled.  
  
“Sam said you had a few questions about last night,” Daniel continued, pretending not to hear. He couldn’t help but play adolescent games with O’Neill, at least until he saw his face. There was that look.  
  
Daniel turned and ducked through the door, “Right, back in a few minutes,” Daniel promised and stepped back into the bright sunshine of another lovely day on P3X531. He started back up the steep path to Celeste’s camp to retrieve Jack’s uniform when he heard a call and turned to see Sam jogging to catch up with him.  
  
“I’m giving the Colonel his privacy,” she said.  
  
Daniel laughed, “Good thinking, me too. Until he gets a pair of pants, I don’t think he wants either of us around.”  
  
They walked in companionable silence. Daniel wondered what Sam thought about last night. It had been unlike any ceremony Daniel had ever experienced. In his extensive travels before joining SGC he thought he’d seen nearly every tribal right the planet had to offer an eager student. But before he could think of a way to ask Sam what she’d thought, they reached Celeste’s camp.  
  
“Welcome, Carter!” Celeste cried, waving as they approached. “Daniel, I didn’t think we’d see you again so soon.”  
  
“It’s about Jack,” Daniel began.  
  
“He is not better?” Celeste asked.  
  
“He’s fine, I think, but grumpy. He wants his clothes back, please.” Daniel explained.  
  
Celeste’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, of course. In the excitement of preparing for the Seer, I forgot we had them. One moment,” and she disappeared into her tent.  
  
Daniel exchanged glances with Sam. She looked equally nonplussed by the need to retrieve her CO’s uniform. As they waited, there was a stir behind them and, as if from nowhere, the Seer was there.  
  
The girl approached slowly. She was dressed in a simple gown of unbleached wool and leather sandals; her long red hair in a plait that hung straight down her back. She stopped, bowed slightly and spoke in careful English. “I come to make a pact between Terre and the Antonines.” Daniel and Sam returned the gesture, bowing slightly lower out of respect to her station.  
  
The girl slipped her hand inside the folds of her gown and pulled out a long knife, the same knife she’d used in the ceremony the night before. She stepped toward Carter and held the handle out to her. “This is a gift … for you … for your trust last night. Yesterday we were strangers, today we are friends, Carter.”  
  
Daniel nudged Sam in the ribs, and she smiled, bowed again and mumbled, “Thank you.”  
  
Daniel was about to give forth with a flowery speech about intergalactic friendship when Sam let out a whoop.  
  
“Holy Hanna!” she cried, “Look at this, Daniel!”  
  
The Seer smiled at the obvious excitement over her gift. Daniel looked at the knife. It had a long handle wrapped in leather, a slender blade so highly polished that it seemed to glow. “Sam,” he said, “what kind of metal is that?”  
  
Sam smiled brightly. “It’s naquida! Tell her thank you, Daniel. Tell her thank you, very, very much! Then ask her where it came from.”  
  
Daniel translated Sam’s thanks and her question. The Seer responded that the Antonines mined the metal from deposits in the valleys beyond. Seeing the excitement the news had generated, she offered to show them the mines.  
  
Carter and Daniel accepted, “Yes!”  
  
They left immediately. When Celeste returned with O’Neill’s uniform, Daniel and Carter were already gone.  
  



	13. Chapter 13

  
Jack sat in the darkest corner of the dark stone hut. He glowered, waiting for Daniel to return. “Where the hell is he?” Jack asked. He itched from sitting in the hay. He smelled like… like… well, he smelled like he hadn’t smelled in a very, very long time, like a freshman after a keg party, a mixture of lingering drugs and sex. He yearned to plunge into the pool just a few yards away, to wash away the physical evidence, but with Carter still out there somewhere it was not going to happen! Jack would not risk running into her again, not in the buff, not after last night. Nope, not going to happen!  
  
“Where in blazes is he?” Jack wondered. Besides his growing impatience for a pair of pants and boots, he needed to pump Daniel for specifics about exactly what he’d done last night. He had no recollection, but there was plenty of evidence that told Jack that he hadn’t conducted himself like an officer and a gentleman – starting with the way he smelled and ending with the look he’d seen on Carter’s face. Carter looked like she wanted to die. Carter – who he’d seen face death without hesitation. When he woke up and asked her what had happened… it isn’t a pretty sight to see an Air Force Officer turn tail and run. “It must have been bad, so bad,” Jack thought again, wincing at the possibilities.  
  
“At least it wasn’t with Carter,” he muttered. “Thank God for small favors.” But who had it been? Someone called the Seer, the local shaman. O’Neill shuddered at the thought of it, recalling how everyone, himself included, had razzed Daniel Jackson when he’d been presented with Sha’Re in front of the entire clan and several members of SGC. O’Neill had joined in happily, hooting as Daniel and Sha’Re disappeared behind the curtain while everyone knew what they were up to on the other side! Jack had enjoyed teasing Daniel, enjoyed it very much.  
  
“Oh, hell,” he growled, “this is going to be bad, very bad.”  
  
“Where the hell is he?” Jack wondered again, anxious to ask Daniel, to get the details clear in his mind so he’d be prepared for the feeble jokes and knowing nods. So, he’d have time to prepare for when he’d face Carter again. “Oh, hell, maybe I’ll just stay here and live in this damned hut. I retired once, I could do it again.” Then he flopped back into the hay. It tickled him in a thousand spots, so he scratched and he waited for Daniel, who didn’t come.  
  
At that moment, Daniel was far upstream of the waterfall, and moving farther still. The Seer had led them swiftly through the mountain pass and down the dry slopes of the leeward side of the mountain range, down toward a distant collection of buildings surrounding the naquida mine of the Antonines.  
  
The mine was small. Only a few people worked there, apprentices of the artisans who worked the metal into ornaments, fine tools and other useful items. As they walked, Carter asked questions of the Seer, using Daniel as translator. The Seer answered promptly, pleased and proud to have a resource of such interest to off-world visitors. Carter learned that the Antonines had little use for the naquida because it was brittle and hard to work. But in small quantities it was favored for its beauty and the sharp, durable edge it leant to tools and small weapons. They had never learned how to work it into larger objects, such as shields or plows.  
  
Carter and Daniel visited with each of the workers, saw their handicrafts and asked about their techniques and preferences for the refined metal. Nothing looked even remotely like a weapon of mass destruction, to Carter’s relief. Within a few hours, Carter was satisfied that the Antonines had no idea of the power of the metal they turned into hand tools and baubles.  
  
She turned to Daniel, “We’ve got to tell the Colonel and then get back to the SGC.”  
  
Daniel raised his brows, “Oh, yeah. Jack.”  
  



	14. Chapter 14

  
Jack was still crouched in the hut when Celeste arrived with his uniform. “O’Neill?” she called, “May I enter?”  
  
“Who’s with you?” Jack answered warily.  
  
“I am alone,” Celeste answered.  
  
“Okay, sure. Come in, Celeste.” Jack called out.  
  
Celeste slipped through the low entry into the dark interior. “O’Neill, why are you here? Are you unwell? It is a beautiful day out!” she asked.  
  
“Are those my clothes?” Jack asked a little too abruptly. “Please,” he finished.  
  
Celeste smiled and handed him the bundle of green, “O’Neill. You are well?”  
  
“Yeah, fine. Couldn’t be better,” Jack said, trying the change the subject.  
  
“What is wrong?” Celeste persisted.  
  
Jack looked at her, saw only concern, and sighed. “Sorry Celeste. I’m not fine. I did something last night, I can’t really remember what it was, but I know it was bad. It’s got me down. I shouldn’t take it out on you, though I apologize. Thanks for bringing the uniform.”  
  
“What did you do?” Celeste asked.  
  
Jack felt his ears growing hot, “I don’t know!” He almost shouted.  
  
“Then why are you angry?” Celeste asked immediately, not letting up.  
  
“Because … because, I know I had sex with someone and I’m not sure who or why!” O’Neill roared. Then he stopped. “Celeste, I’m sorry. Please, just leave me alone for a while. I’m not fit to be around right now.”  
  
Celeste gazed at O’Neill for a moment and placed her hand on his thigh. “O’Neill, last night someone had sex with you. You were drugged. You did nothing wrong. In fact, you performed admirably.”  
  
Celeste considered the man before her. He seemed unduly upset, but she continued. “Would you like to know what happened?”  
  
Jack answered softly, “Yes, please.”  
  
“Do you remember coming to us?” Celeste asked.  
  
“Yes,” Jack answered.  
  
“What else do you remember?”  
  
“I followed you here. I remember walking here. I was tired and went to sleep. Then in the morning I went swimming and fell asleep. I ate and then I couldn’t… Celeste, why did you drug my food?”  
  
“Your food was not drugged, O’Neill. You were ill; Very ill. When did you stop playing music,” Celeste asked.  
  
“A few days ago. Why?”  
  
“Days?” Celeste asked.  
  
“Maybe more,” he admitted.  
  
“It was difficult?”  
  
“Yeah, it was hard.” Jack answered softly, “I couldn’t sleep. So when I got here, I guess I needed to catch up on my shut-eye? Is that what happened?” he asked.  
  
“Not exactly. The Antonines understand differently than the Tar‘Re , O’Neill. We saw that you were in danger. We knew you rejected the gift of the Muse. That is blasphemy. The Muse had claimed you. You would have died if we hadn’t helped you. Did you know?” Celeste asked.  
  
Jack looked startled, started to deny it and then said simply, “yeah, maybe.”  
  
Celeste smiled and asked, “Yet, you resisted.”  
  
Jack studied his bare toes and muttered, “yeah.”  
  
“Why, O’Neill?” Celeste asked. “  
  
Jack shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. Celeste, I think … I feel there’s something else I have to do. It’s not about music. As great as it feels to play like … like Leo Kottke, it’s not the point.” Jack shook his head in disgust.  
  
“O’Neill.” Celeste smiled. “There is something. It’s why I helped the Nox save you. O’Neill, it’s important, important to the Nox and the Antonines and to the Tar ‘Re. It became clear to us that you are not meant to worship the Muse. Even before you came to us, you had another gift. I don’t know when or why, but a higher purpose had claimed you long ago. Somehow you understood that serving the Muse would jeopardize this purpose. You rejected the Muse. Doing so, you almost died.”  
  
Jack looked at Celeste for an uncomfortable moment and then asked the question. “So, what did I do last night.”  
  
“I found you collapsed on the beach. I brought you inside and prepared you, O’Neill. There was not time to be gentle. I used ancient drugs to prepare you, powerful drug to open your spirit, drugs from recipes as old as Time. It was necessary, if I was to release the gift quickly. I hadn’t planned to work so quickly. I hoped to allow you time here to face your ordeal, to overcome it through patience and persistence. But, you had already challenged it; you were losing the battle. It had gone too far. I couldn’t wait. So I treated you. I didn’t ask your permission; I simply acted to save you. For that, I ask your forgiveness, O’Neill.” Celeste looked at Jack.  
  
He saw her concern and felt anger melt away. “You helped me, Celeste. Thank you. If you had asked me, I think I would have said yes. Forget about it, no harm done.”  
  
Celeste smiled enigmatically, “That’s right, there was no harm done, O’Neill. But, I must tell you the rest. An ancient ritual was necessary.”  
  
Jack felt a chill trip down his spine. ‘This is it – the bad news,’ he thought as he asked softly, “A ritual?”  
  
Celeste nodded and continued, “As is our custom: last night the drums called the Antonines. Our people came to this holy place from the City, from the fields, from the mountains and from the mines. We carried you from this hut to the Alter. You were an offering to the Muse. The Seer came, O’Neill. While you were tied on the Alter, she laid her hands upon you. She freed you from your gift. Do you remember?”  
  
“I remember swimming with women, or with fish, maybe.” Jack said slowly, remembering only disparate images. “It was very hot.”  
  
Celeste continued, “There was a price, O’Neill. You paid it.”  
  
Jack readied himself for the worst, “And, what price was that, Celeste?”  
  
Celeste raised her eyebrows, trying to explain her reasons. “I offered the Seer your only things of value, your clothing. She rejected them. That left only you. After freeing you, the Seer claimed her price. There was no dishonor.” Celeste concluded, “No harm was done, O’Neill.”  
  
In a rush the images took on meaning. “Electric guitars and thousands of stars, and a girl, a girl with long red hair. I remember… Holy buckets! Celeste. I remember,” he rasped, his face coloring deeply. Jack rubbed his eyes. He dreaded the next answer, but needed to know. “What do you mean ‘placed on an Alter?’ Where exactly did I pay this price?”  
  
“On the Alter of the Muse, before the assembled Antonines. The Seer took you. You were restrained. You needed her help and she claimed you as payment. You had nothing else to offer.” Celeste answered softly.  
  
“Everyone saw.” Jack asked.  
  
Celeste nodded somberly. “Your friends stopped the ritual, but I explained you would die if it did not continue. They asked only to be at your side.”  
  
“Daniel was at my side,” Jack asked hopefully.  
  
Celeste smiled, nodded and said, “and Carter.”  
  
Jack put his head in his hands and said miserably, “and Carter.” He decided staying in the hut for the rest of his life wouldn’t be long enough.  
  
Celeste waited another moment, contemplating O’Neill’s distress. He seemed unduly concerned. Perhaps, she thought, he has promised himself to Carter. Celeste paused another moment. She was about to suggest he bathe in the pool, when he said, “At least I didn’t have to hear it from Daniel. Thank you Celeste.”  
  
Celeste smiled. She’d noticed the rivalry between O’Neill and the younger man. The men were different – one gentle, the other hot-tempered, one intellectual, the other intuitive. Yet, fundamentally, they were the same – in their drive to be the best, to achieve, in their drive to do good and make a difference. Hence: rivalry.  
  
Jack rubbed the salt and pepper stubble on his jaw. He looked exhausted, Celeste thought. “How do you feel, O’Neill,” she asked.  
  
“Beat. Dirty. But … better. All I need is sleep.” He hesitated and asked, “Right? I will be able to sleep now?”  
  
“Yes,” Celeste answered. “There should be no more difficulty, but O’Neill the gift of the Muse is gone.”  
  
“No more guitar concerts, then?” Jack grinned sadly.  
  
Celeste shook her head, no, and Jack continued, “I guess it’s worth it to finally get some sleep. Thank you Celeste.” Then he cocked his head and asked, “Why did you and the Nox bother?”  
  
Celeste smiled; she’d wondered when he would ask. “I helped you because I felt responsible. The Nox are deeply concerned about your gift.”  
  
“They are into guitar playing?” O’Neill asked, mystified. “Or I guess it would be more like they are against guitar playing? I don’t get it.”  
  
Celeste explained, “The Nox are concerned about your true purpose, your first purpose, the purpose that motivated you to reject the gift of the Muse. It is that purpose the Nox sought to preserve. That is why they asked us to release you, O’Neill.”  
  
“Oh,” Jack said. He pondered a moment and asked, “What purpose is that again?”  
  
Celeste smiled and touched Jack’s arm tenderly. “The Nox came to me O’Neill. They knew you had been ‘gifted’ by the Muse. They explained to me that your first purpose, your true purpose would war with our gift. Some people can serve only one true purpose, O’Neill. You are such a one. Your service began long before you visited our planet. The Nox promised to send you to me and asked that I help you.”  
  
Jack nodded, not really comprehending, but hoping it would come clear.  
  
Celeste continued, “When you arrived, I brought you here in hopes of freeing you through gradual, humane treatment. Unfortunately, there was no time for that. Fire of the battle already raged in you.”  
  
“Battle?” Jack asked.  
  
Celeste continued. “There are two great forces, O’Neill – the Muse governs the path to creativity. Opposing the Muse is the ‘Nu’, the power that moves the Muse. The Muse is the path to beauty, intelligence, order, grace and understanding, none of these things would occur without the Nu. The Nu is the greater, more basic force. It is prime force – it existed before Time was time, before existence itself came to be. It moves creation. It has many names; none truly describe it. Perhaps it is enough to know it as passion, passions you’ve known: duty, justice, loyalty, love, but also fear, hate, and despair. This terrible passion prods sentient beings from peaceful order to accept chaos and change, even to yearn for growth and discovery. But you know these things, O’Neill.” Celeste fixed his gaze with her cool blue-gray eyes, until he finally dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded.  
  
“This is the force you serve O’Neill. It is a harsh master. Your path is not the path of the Muse. That is unfortunate for you, personally. You will not follow a path of beauty and creativity. You must serve the fierce force of the Nu. It is service dictated by your own passion.”  
  
Celeste paused and gazed at Jack intently for another long moment. “I told your friends that the gift of the Muse is an open door. It is the Nu that opens that door to perfection. Through the vision of those who pass through, you will transform existence. But, O’Neill, that vision is not for you. It belongs to the Muse; it belongs to those who worship her. But, know this,” Celeste leaned forward, her eyes shining. “In serving, you open the door. You are the engine by which genius blossoms and grows. Your force drives others’ to create. You are the mechanism of their opportunity, the sentinel who guards and watches.”  
  
“Watches after those who serve the Muse,” suddenly Jack thought he might actually get it.  
  
“Yes,” Celeste smiled, rose and then stopped for a moment and then continued, “The Nox know this and want to ensure that you do not lose your way.”  
  
Jack smiled a grim smile. “I’m here to watch out for the eggheads,” then he laughed softly, thinking of what might be ahead for Carter and Jackson. “The Nox shouldn’t worry about me getting lost, that’s pretty much my entire job description at the SGC.” Somehow it all made sense now and he realized he’d always known he’d found his place in the Universe at the SGC; he just never expected the Universe to agree.  
  
Celeste paused and then spoke in a confidential whisper, “O’Neill, heed my words. You smell. I will watch for Carter and Daniel. Please swim in the pool. Cleanse yourself. I will ensure you are not disturbed.”  
  
Jack grinned back at her laughing eyes, enjoying her sense of humor. “Thanks Celeste – for everything.” She rose and left and he lay back in the straw and gave her a couple of minutes lead, then followed her out into the brilliant day. It was hot and the mist from the falls evaporated almost as soon as it touched his skin. The rocks radiated under his bare feet as he walked to the water’s edge, looked around, saw no one, and dropped the vile wool robe on the shore.  
  
Jack plunged into the pool. The icy water took his breath away, but he pushed himself in a fast crawl across the pool to the base of the falls, dove and turned and swam back to the shore pushing faster with every stroke. He burst through the surface, gasped, and dove again, continuing to swim laps, cutting through the water, feeling it wash down his sides, flushing away all traces of last night’s folly. After several turns he slowed and eased himself out of the water, tingling and refreshed. His lungs burned and his heart hammered from the exertion.  
  
He emerged pink and clean, his hair dripping rivulets of water that trickled down his neck and back. He stood briefly in waist deep water and then waded to shore, grabbed his uniform and stood while the suns baked him. He pulled on his shorts and trousers and considered toweling off with the stinking wool robe, decided he’d rather stay wet than touch it and, instead, sat with his back to the hut, barefoot and bare-chested in the heat of the Antonines’ twin suns. He felt warmth seep into him from the hot rocks under his back and feet. He closed his eyes. Water dripping from his hair tickled his back and shoulders. He drifted to sleep, lulled by the roaring waterfall.  
  



	15. Chapter 15

  
Carter and Daniel returned from the naquida mine as fast as they could, keeping a brisk pace despite the rough terrain and uphill slope. They covered the distance back in less than half the time they’d taken to arrive at a leisurely pace. Carter insisted. She knew she had to get word to the Colonel and General Hammond as soon as she was physically able. Since the Nox had abducted O’Neill, he carried none of the usual field gear, making radio communication impossible.  
  
Carter expected the Colonel would order them all back to the SGC immediately to confer with the General. She was eager to begin analysis on the raw naquida ore in their heavy packs. She was reorganizing her schedule mentally as she walked, when she suddenly realized Celeste was approaching through the woods. Carter raised a hand in greeting, “Hello, Celeste!”  
  
Celeste waved back, but didn’t call out. Instead she closed the distance in silence and when she was near said quietly, “O’Neill is asleep. I promised him I would watch for your return.”  
  
Carter and Daniel exchanged a glance, embarrassed that they’d just abandoned Celeste and the Colonel without a word. “Sorry about disappearing on you like that, Celeste,” Carter said. “The Seer came by and one thing led to another. She showed us the mine. We’ve just come from there.”  
  
Celeste smiled, “And you found something important?” She could tell by the gleam in Carter’s eyes that the naquida had intrigued her.  
  
“Yes, and we need to get back through the Star Gate to tell the General about the mine. I think, if you are willing, he will want to barter for access to your ore.” Carter said eagerly.  
  
Celeste smiled and said, “There is a problem, Captain.”  
Carter’s disappointment was clear, “Oh?”  
  
“Not about the ore, that is of no real consequence and, if it will help you, we can arrange to provide it to you,” Celeste explained.  
  
“Then what?” Carter asked, mystified.  
  
“O’Neill is not able to return with you through the Star Gate, as you call it.” Celeste said simply. “He needs to be here longer to complete his recovery. I need to be sure there are no lasting effects from the gift or any damage from the cure.”  
  
“The Colonel,” Carter said softly, shamed that she had forgotten in her enthusiasm. “Of course.”  
  
Carter turned to Daniel. “You take the naquida back to SGC and brief General Hammond. I’m going to stay here until the Colonel is ready to travel and then, if you aren’t back already, we’ll see you at the SGC.”  
  
Daniel looked doubtful, “Are you sure I shouldn’t stay. This is your field of expertise, Sam. Don’t you want to get started?”  
  
Carter shrugged, “There will be plenty of time for all that. First things, first: I’ll look after the Colonel.” Carter had made up her mind and spoke to Celeste. “Can one of your people show Daniel the way back to the City?”  
  
Celeste smiled, “Yes, and I will arrange for help carrying the ore. It looks heavy.” Then she spoke to Carter quietly, “O’Neill is still very weak. Let him rest, if he will. If he won’t, please tell me. I will arrange for it. He is resting now by the waterfall. Later I will send you food. If there is nothing else you need, I will arrange for Daniel’s guide.”  
  
Carter shook her head and watched Daniel and Celeste as they made their way back toward her camp, then she turned and walked down the steep trail to the base of the waterfall. As she picked her way down the trail, she could see the Colonel leaning against the hut, asleep in the warm sunlight. As she closed the distance she realized he was wearing nothing but trousers, and those were rolled up his calves. He looked like an overgrown kid, except of course for the traces of gray at his temples and the sprinkling of silver through his beard. Carter approached the hut silently, enjoying the opportunity to see Jack O’Neill asleep, the chance to see his lean, well-formed body without any danger of him realizing he was being scrutinized.  
  
She grinned as she looked. Jack looked almost respectable, despite a three-day beard. His hair had dried in the inevitable cowlicks, perhaps more bizarre than usual. The missing hank of hair was hardly noticeable. She had an almost undeniable urge to ruffle the red-brown tufts. The damp hair at the nape of his neck and around his ears had grown longer than usual and curled in tantalizing curls. Intriguing.  
  
Sam gazed at Jack another moment and then reined herself in before it got out of control. God forbid he should open his eyes and see her staring at him with what she imagined was an idiotic expression on her face, worse yet if he could read her mind. She turned away and in absolute silence walked to the pool, sat on a massive rock at the shoreline and waited.  
  
It was a lovely day. Sunlight streamed through the giant columns of trees, making it feel like Sam was in the heart of a great cathedral. A trout fed in the pool on emerging insects. She smiled as she thought of O’Neill’s fascination with natural history. Now and then she would tease him, pretending that she didn’t know he was a self-schooled expert in field biology. He always listened intently when she lectured him on things she knew he understood far better than she ever would, such as aquatic entomology. Undoubtedly, if he’d been awake, he’d have said something about the proper fly to match the hatch. He would have snagged one and pronounced it an omega or sub-omega, a stonefly or a mayfly, or something else.  
  
Too bad he was still asleep. Carter glanced back toward the hut. His chin was on his chest and he was snoring, although she couldn’t really hear it over the roar of the falls. Every so often an emerging insect landed on his face and he’d brush it away without waking.  
  
Well, at least the trout were enjoying the insects. In fact, they were having a feast.  
  
The suns descended toward the horizon and O’Neill still dozed. Carter understood Celeste’s concern as she waited for him to rouse and he didn’t. “It can’t be easy to sleep on a stone beach, against a stone hut. But he’s doing it. The Colonel must be beat,” she thought.  
  
Three hours after she’d arrived, she heard him stir and realized it was because an Antonine was approaching with food. She caught a whiff of roast lamb and warm bread on the breeze. The young man quietly passed by O’Neill and brought her the savory smelling basket. “Thank you,” she said softly. The Colonel stirred again in his sleep. Carter didn’t think he could have heard her over the sound of the falls, but an instant later he spoke.  
  
“Carter, that you?” Jack said softly, his words slurred by sleep.  
  
“Yes, Sir,” she answered, as the Antonine ascended the steep slope. “You hungry, Colonel?”  
  
“Starved,” Jack answered opening his eyes and twisting his neck slowly, working the kinks out. “How long was I asleep?” he groaned.  
  
“At least three hours, Sir. Maybe more,” Carter relied. “You were out when I got here. I guess you needed it.”  
  
She wished she could take back the last, innocent remark when she saw the Colonel’s face. He looked at her as if she’d accused him of … she didn’t know anything bad enough to account for that expression. To cover, she continued, “Celeste said it might take a little time for you to rest up after the drugs she used on you.” Carter relaxed as she saw his face lift, she pretended she hadn’t noticed any of it.  
  
Jack nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t slept much in the past couple of weeks, I guess. Now, it seems to be all I do.” He groaned again and slowly stood and then arched his back. “Carter, next time would you wake me up? I think I’m permanently crippled from sleeping on those stones.”  
  
Carter smiled, “Yes, Sir,” and pulled two wooden platters out of the basket, set them on the boulder and served the lamb and bread. Jack stopped complaining, walked directly over, sat and started eating without another word.  
  
They ate in silence for several minutes, side-by-side on the huge boulder at the downstream end of the pool. Then Jack spoke.  
  
“Carter, you did the right thing. I appreciate it.”  
Carter replied, “Yes, Sir. You’re welcome.”  
  
They ate in silence as Jack worked up to the next part.  
  
“Carter, I’m sorry you had to be there for… I’m sorry you had to see …” Jack stopped and looked away toward the falls, trying to find a better way to say it.  
  
After a moment, Carter spoke. “Colonel, I saw a woman save your life. That’s all I saw, Sir. I don’t think there is anything to be sorry about. It was my job to watch your back. That’s all it was.”  
  
“Right,” Jack agreed, still gazing in the other direction. “Thanks.”  
  
The rest of the meal disappeared without another word. Both sat chewing, glad for something to do other than speak. Wild visions of the Antonines’ cure occupied both minds, but neither wanted to risk talking about it again. Carter was especially glad. She was acutely aware that she sat beside a half-naked man, a man with a damned nice physique, a man she admired and had watched… “Don’t go there Sam,” she told herself, “at least not until I transfer out of this squad.”  
  
Within a few minutes, the twin suns slipped below the horizon. Nearby night sounds filled the glade, over the ever-present pounding of the waterfall.  
  
“Time to turn in, Carter.” Jack said, standing slowly. “I recommend the hut. The stones hurt.” Then he turned away, grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, slipped on his socks and boots and strolled downstream, laces flapping, giving Sam some privacy.  
  
She stood, stretched and squatted at the water’s edge. She washed her hands and face in the stream, ran her wet fingers back through her hair, brushed her teeth and was ready to hit the sack. She slipped into the hut, formed a bed of the sweet grass against one wall and tossed the rest into a crude bed for the Colonel along the other side. After a full day of hiking, she was asleep before Jack crawled through the entry. She was already dreaming of what she’d do with an unlimited supply of raw naquida when he pulled off his precious boots and settled back into the straw.  
  
Jack snuggled deep into the straw to fend off the growing night chill. He listened to Carter’s regular breathing across the dark hut and suddenly remembered how she felt lying beside him. ‘Was it only this morning?’ he wondered, recalling the joy and pure horror in his first conscious moments. It had seemed exactly right for one brief instant before he was fully awake. He hadn’t felt the weight of a woman slumbering on his chest since Sara.  
  
‘Don’t go there, Jack’ he told himself. ‘She’s not here for your personal pleasure. She’s a Captain in the US Air Force; she’s under your command and besides all that she’s a bona fide fricking genius. She’s the only reason the Nox and the Antonines saved your brainless butt, so you can get her out there where she needs to go to save the Universe.  
  
Jack, still exhausted, realized he was probably facing another sleepless night. He hunched over on his side, trying to block out the soft sounds of Carter, sleeping so very close. But, as he lay listening to her soft, regular breathing, the idea would not go away. Or was it an urge? Jack began to hum to himself, thinking, “C’mon, Carter, prove you’re a genius. Let this work,’ as he hummed ‘Jingle Bells’, the version by the electronic barking dogs, with growing urgency.  
  
Dawn approached and Jack was still wide-awake. He had given up on humming hours before and resigned himself to just listening to Sam breathe. He was beginning to understand how much his service to the Nox, and the Antonines and the Nu might actually cost him.  
  
As the darkness paled slightly at the door to the hut, he rose silently and slipped outside to let Carter sleep. A cloud of mayflies emerged from the pool. Jack sat at the water’s edge, pulled on his boots and knew Celeste was right; it was unfortunate for him, personally. In fact, it was a disaster.  
  
As long as Samantha Carter was under his command, she was strictly off limits for Jack O’Neill. Now, thanks to Celeste, Jack understood what he always knew intuitively, but never before put into words. Carter, that brainy blonde with the big blue eyes, would do important work somewhere beyond the confines of Earth, and Jack knew now for certain it was his mission to get her out there and back safely. That meant she’d remain under his command, remain out of reach, until the job was done.  
  
As mayflies dimpled the water, emerging for a single glorious day of reproduction, Jack envisioned his own immediate future and envied the emerging flies. For the foreseeable future, he’d just have to bury his feelings – or ideas, or urges or whatever the hell they were -- for the foreseeable future, maybe forever. Jack rubbed his stubble, after three days already a respectable beard, and asked himself. Why does my personal life seem to be a series of calamities, always going from bad to worse? He slowly laced up his boots and gazed through the cloud of insects toward the falls.  
  
From her station under the falls the brook trout gazed back and contemplated O’Neill. The Seer had exacted her price from him and now the Muse would claim hers, as well. In allowing Celeste to believe she had freed O’Neill from her service, the Muse had merely ‘gifted’ him once again, exchanging one gift for another. But, it was a subtle gift this time, a small gift, a gift of cool water and feelings for a woman whose mind was as quick and supple as a trout, a woman O’Neill might angle a lifetime for and never catch.  
  
The Goddess snapped up an emerging mayfly, well pleased. Let the Nu claim O’Neill’s service, the Muse was satisfied to claim his heart and soul – for the foreseeable future.  
  



	16. Chapter 16

  
A couple hours later, Carter emerged from the hut. “Sir?” She asked, “You okay?”  
  
“Never better, Captain,” Jack replied from his perch on the boulder. “Watching the hatch -- mayflies; sub-imago. I’d guess I could use a lemon dunn pattern…” He paused, turned his head and grinned. “How are you this morning? Ready to brief me on what you’ve been up to while I’ve been out of it?”  
  
Carter laughed and said, “Sure. Reverse chronological okay?” To his nod, she continued eagerly, “Yesterday Daniel and I discovered a deposit of naquida. The Antonines mine it, Sir. And, I think they will let us have some, too, maybe as much as we need. I sent Daniel back with samples we collected to brief the General.”  
  
Jack nodded again. “So, what do you propose, Captain?”  
  
“Well, we set up relations with the Antonines and start an extraction system, feeding it back through the ‘Gate to the SGC for further refinement and research,” she answered cautiously. The Colonel had never shown any interest in the details of her research.  
  
“Yeah? Then what? Can you actually refine naquida yet, Carter. Or is that something you have to figure out?”  
  
“I need to work with a sample to know that, Sir. Each ore has it’s own specific characteristics. But, from what I’ve seen at the mine, the Antonines are already refining it sufficiently to use it for tools and ornaments. I just have to take the next step to get super-refined, weapons-grade material.” Carter felt a little giddy, a combination of professional excitement and shock at the Colonel’s sudden, close questioning on topics he’d never seemed to care about, aside from the final weaponry.  
  
“So what kind of a timeframe are you talking about?” he asked, squinting as if the answer mattered dearly.  
  
“Well, days to weeks to develop the proper refining protocols. Then more time to bring it into mass-production -- maybe in a year, or two we can be producing naquida-based technology, including power-supplies and weapons.” Sam stopped and smiled uneasily, “If I may, Sir? Why the sudden interest in the details. It’s not like you.”  
  
Jack smiled what seemed like a sad smile and said simply, “Carter, your research means a great deal to me, much more than you know. Keep at it and keep me apprised of your progress. Now, let’s get home, so you can get started. Get your gear together.”  
  
He stood, took a last look at the falls and started down the path that would lead back to the ‘Gate. “I’m still moving kinda slow. Why don’t you just get your stuff and catch up with me on the way down?”  
  
Sam watched the Colonel walk slowly into the woods. He still looked exhausted.  
  
“That way I won’t hold you back.”  
  
\-- fin --


End file.
